


Dance To The Tune That Is Played

by SoDoLaFaMiDoRe



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Crushes, Dancing, F/M, Recovery, Romance, Set after SOS Pt. 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22351372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoDoLaFaMiDoRe/pseuds/SoDoLaFaMiDoRe
Summary: The first part of recovery is easy. The second part is much, much harder.
Relationships: Penelope Creighton-Ward/Gordon Tracy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Dance To The Tune That Is Played

**Author's Note:**

> I got Waltzing Matilda stuck in my head working an incredibly mind-numbing job and thinking of this helped me get through the day. :) I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to my friend (;3) Lacertae for beta-ing the fic! Love you!
> 
> Please enjoy!

Luckily for Gordon, all of his brothers had medical training, which meant he was allowed to spend the first part of his recovery at home among family.

There was basic physical therapy for him to do, but most of the time needed to be spent resting and letting his broken bones and muscles mend. Virgil, ever the nurse, dragged him through as much physical therapy as he could, though most of it was a waiting game.

After a visit with the doctors of the hospital in Auckland, it was decided by the family that he would do his physio in Christchurch. Auckland was busy and loud and it made Gordon’s head hurt. In Christchurch, he could easily get to his appointments and spend the rest of his time resting in a rented apartment. He could easily talk to his brothers over comms, but if he wanted to be cleared back to International Rescue any time soon he would need the kind of intensive training that his brothers just did not have the skills to provide.

So he found himself in a small apartment in Riccarton, near Hagley Park. The purple line was easy to crutch his way over to, and wearing a medical mask meant no one recognized him as Gordon Tracy, International Rescue. He was just another injured patient on the way to a check-up at the hospital.

It took another connecting bus to get him to the physio clinic across the city, but he had to say he enjoyed watching the city move past. He tended to arrive in the clinic around nine in the morning, for a grueling day of exercise. They had to start slow, regaining his sense of balance and working on developing atrophied muscles.

By the end of the day his legs ached, his back was on fire and his arm was jelly. On his worst days, when he needed to relax, he would swipe is metro card to Sumner and sit on the beach. The evening breeze off the Pacific caressed his cheeks and hair, and sitting on the rapidly-cooling sand brought him back to a body that didn’t feel like his own.

As the sun set he would hobble over to a nearby cafe, getting a cornish pasty and a soda that he would eat waiting for the bus. Then it was back to a quiet apartment to pass out, too tired to even dream. 

He stopped taking his pain pills without telling his brothers. He could take the pain, he could take the burn. He hadn’t spoken to any of them, but waking up was full of fear. When he first came to in the hospital, drugged up and immobilized, he hadn’t been able to feel below his waist. His heart had turned to ice, that only lessened slightly when John had reassured him it was a spinal block and he would regain use of his legs. So he skipped the percocet, letting the bottle sit on the bathroom counter. The pain meant he could still feel, and that’s what he needed.

He still woke up in a cold sweat some nights, reliving the attack. If he hadn’t gotten his helmet on in time, if Lady Penelope hadn’t been there… shoving those thoughts aside, if he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep he’d start his day. The sun hadn’t even risen as he boiled the kettle, measuring out his instant coffee and setting out the creamer to lessen the bitterness.

The hot shower in the morning felt good. He used the hot water to release his tense muscles, sitting down on the shower chair. He didn’t like looking at the scars that now criss-crossed his body, where his arm and leg had been mended.

So the time passed, and slowly but surely he grew stronger. He graduated from crutches to a cane, which earned him odd looks on the bus that he tried resolutely to ignore. He grew frustrated with the exercises, which his doctor explained was normal. He especially grew frustrated he couldn’t swim, the Pacific being only a short bus ride away.

One day, noticing the tight lines of his face as he walked the same length of floor for the hundredth time, Dr. Opokin suggested something new.

“Have you ever danced?”

“No, not really. I just never gave it much thought.”

“Well you’re strong enough now that I think this will help. We won’t be doing anything too intense but it should help with some of the frustration.”

So Gordon Tracy learned to dance. Nothing intense, but a few basic waltzes and others, such as the American Foxtrot, that helped him regain coordination in his feet and arms. Dr. Opokin told him he would have to wait until the last hour of their therapy sessions everyday for the dance lessons, which gave Gordon something to look forward to as he lifted weights and went through his paces for the hundredth time that day.

It took nearly two months, but finally Gordon was cleared to head back to Tracy Island. He packed up the meager belongings he had brought and rode the bus to the airport, where Scott was waiting. His older brother swept him in a hug, eyes misty at the sight of his little brother back near 100 percent. He knew, same as any other Tracy, that Gordon wouldn’t feel his best until he was back doing missions, but it was nice to see him walking on his own two feet.

\----

Getting back into the swing of things had been nice, and the fact he was back to saving lives helped Gordon deal with the last of the trauma from being injured on the bottom of the ocean. One thing he missed, that he couldn’t tell his brothers about, was dancing. He was used to doing the steps alone, and during the moments he could slip away to his room he would practice the steps while humming the music.

It wasn’t as fun to dance without a partner, but he made do. Until one day, Lady Penelope invited him to a stuffy party. The brothers normally took turns accompanying her, both to represent International Rescue and to give her someone decent to talk to when the conversation grew too dull for her tastes. So he found himself dropped off to meet her at her estate, decked out in a suit and tie.

She always took his breath away. Looking at her made him feel he was a boat in a heavy storm, tossed about by waves and barely able to stay upright. They arrived at the party without much incident, and after a few poses for the cameras, it was off to the dullness of the evening.

They at least had interesting table-mates, discussing the expansion of the Supreme Barrier Reef now that it had recovered from the acid spill. Gordon and Lady Penelope shared a knowing look at that, remembering the tense moments when his suit had nearly failed from the acid. They were saved from that topic of conversation by the second portion of the evening, a live band.

Looking over at Lady Penelope, a plan formed in his mind. He hadn’t been particularly known for dancing before his accident, and while he was no professional, he was confident he knew the steps to this song as the opening tune played.

“Lady Penelope, may I have this dance?” It might have been the recovery making him bold, the fact that he had spent nearly two months alone with his thoughts away from his family as he worked hard at getting better, but he didn’t want to kick himself for missing this opportunity.

“You know the dance to _Waltzing Matilda_?”

“I learned it in Christchurch.” She smiled at that, taking his proffered hand as he led her to the dance-floor. It was a slower song, and Gordon couldn’t help but smile as they danced together. He had a lot of quiet, lonely mornings, and the thought of getting better for his brothers and Penelope helped push him through the exhausting days of therapy and sleepless nights. 

He still wasn’t the best dancer, but he didn’t have two left feet as they went through a foxtrot. The song was an old favorite in the Tracy household, and he realized as he looked Lady Penelope in the eyes that he truly loved her. It wasn’t a puppy crush just because she was the prettiest woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her sharp wit, her calmness even in the face of unrelenting peril, her kindness; it all made him fall in love with her a little more every time he looked at her.

As the song ended, they locked gazes. It would be a breach of propriety to kiss in a place like this, and Gordon swallowed. He really wanted to kiss her again, better this time. The first time had taken him off guard. Lady Penelope just smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. “Gordon Tracy, may I have this dance?”

It was the happiest evening he had in awhile.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!


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